


Gotta Get It Right

by shinnyluvssuju



Category: Mötley Crüe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 13:30:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinnyluvssuju/pseuds/shinnyluvssuju
Summary: I knocked on the door, and a familiar voice yelled out, “What do you want?” No, it couldn’t be, but it was. I opened the door and saw him with my own two eyes.I saw me.





	Gotta Get It Right

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all like this!! It was very fun to write. I'm thinking of maybe doing something like this for each of the guys. If that's something you want let me know!

I had a dream last night that was so beyond strange that I just have to tell someone about it, even if that someone is myself. I call it a dream only because I don’t know what that whole thing actually was-- it was more of an out of body experience, like that lucid dreaming stuff everyone talks about. My dreams are usually things that I’m forced to watch happen and can do nothing to change them. This time, it’s like I knew I was in a dream and I knew what was happening. I was able to say and do what I needed to. When I woke up, it was still so crystal clear in my mind that it felt like a real memory. Talk about a mind fuck first thing in the morning. 

I’ll get to it. It started off with me walking up the stairs to the old apartment I used to share with Tommy and Mick. Everything looked just how it did back then, but I looked like me now. I made it to the door, and forgot that we had boarded it up after it got broken down by the pigs so many times. I chuckled to myself, and slipped through the open window. 

Everything was just how it used to be. The disgusting rug Tommy and I found on the street was still sprawled out on the floor, his drum kit on top of it. All of Mick’s equipment and one of his guitars were set up in the corner of the living room. The sink was full of dishes, as usual. I swear I even saw a cockroach skitter across the counter. But where was everybody? It did seem early in the morning, maybe they were all sleeping. Something was calling me to my old bedroom. I made it towards there like a man possessed. 

I knocked on the door, and a familiar voice yelled out, “What do you want?” No, it couldn’t be, but it was. I opened the door and saw him with my own two eyes. 

I saw me. 

That’s right, skinny and young and pretty twenty-four year old me, sitting cross legged on the bed in front of me. There was a notebook in his (my?) lap, and pen in hand. When he realized I wasn’t Mick or Tommy, he instantly went into fighting mode. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked me angrily, reaching into his back pocket and flipping open a knife. I loved that knife. I brought it with me everywhere. I even slept with it. “Get out of my fucking--” He stopped, and squinted at me. “...do I know you?” he asked, suspicious. The knife was still pointed at me. 

I put my hands up. “Yes,” I tried to convince him. “You do know me. This is gonna sound crazy--” 

“Cut to the fucking chase,” he barked at me. Boy, was I charming. 

“I’m you,” I spit out. “I’m you but… sixty.” 

A look of fear flashed over his face. “Prove it,” he demanded, not wanting to believe me. 

I racked my brain for what I could show or tell him, and then it hit me. “You’ve got a rose tattoo, right?” I asked. He nodded. I pointed at it on my arm. “Looks a lot like this one, doesn’t it? Same spot?”   
He gasped, then tried to appear tough again. The hand holding the knife was shaking. “S-so? Maybe we have similar tattoos, I need something better.” 

“Okay,” I said. “You’re Frank Ferrana. Your mom is Deanna. Your grandpa is Tom. You have a sister named Lisa you never met. Your best friend from El Paso was Juan. Right now, you’re already thinking about Motley’s second album, and you’ve just barely finished Too Fast for Love. You wanna call it Shout at the Devil. You have a scar on your left arm from cutting yourself so deep, the police had to give you stitches when they came to arrest your mom because you told them she did it. Anything else?”

His mouth fell open and he dropped the knife. He slowly approached me, looking me up and down in disbelief. “C-can I poke you to make sure I’m not hallucinating this?” I chuckled a little, and nodded. When his finger didn’t go right through me, he shut his eyes hard and whispered, “This isn’t happening.” 

“It is,” I insisted. “And I don’t know why, but maybe I have to… warn you about something? Tell you something? I don’t know. I just know I came here for a reason.” 

He opened his eyes again. “You’re old,” he cried, looking about ready to lose his mind. 

“Hey, I don’t look that bad though, all things considering,” I asserterted. “Take a little better care of our body, man. Doritos and soda aren’t breakfast. You don’t even like smoking all that much, no one is forcing you to smoke a pack a day. Also, sleep is a really good thing, try it sometime.” 

Young Nikki opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “Are you… am I married?” 

I laughed. “Yeah. Takes a few tries, but then you find a good wife.” 

“I have kids?” he asked me. 

I nodded. “Five of them.” His eyes widened. “And they’re the coolest. One even just got married. They look just like me. I mean, us.” 

“This is insane,” he muttered. “Can I ask you more questions?” 

“Sure,” I said. I sat down on the bed next to him. 

He took a deep breath. “Does… Dad ever come back?” 

I sighed. “No. But you’ll be okay with that one day.” 

“Do me and the guys stay friends?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled. “You’ll have your ups and downs. Sometimes you won’t talk for years. But they’re always going to be your friends.” 

“Does Tommy have kids?” he asked me in bewilderment. 

“Two sons,” I told him. 

He started to look more excited than nervous, then. “This is insane,” he repeated. “I can’t believe I get all those tattoos! I look sick!” I laughed. “So we make it, right? As a band?” 

“Oh yeah,” I said proudly. 

“And do people still listen to us in-- what year are you from?” 

“2019.” 

“Jesus Christ. And do people still like us?” 

“Somehow, yeah. Motley’s gonna get a star on the walk of fame. They’re gonna make a movie about you guys. You’ll write books about your life and they’ll become best sellers. All your hard work pays off tenfold in the end.” 

“Holy fuck,” he said. “I’m going to be rich and famous…” 

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Things won’t always be great though, okay? Things are gonna suck, and suck bad. In a few years from now, you’ll go through the hardest years of your life. You almost don’t make it out. But I want you to fuckin’ remember all these good things I’m telling you when it all goes to shit, got it? Because you have to make it out alive. You’ll be a better person for it.” 

“Oh,” he said, hanging his head a little. I felt bad for knocking the wind out of his sails, so I tried to think of something that would make him laugh. 

“Vince gets fat,” I blurted out. 

He looked at me, and we both started to laugh. “No way!” he said. “So I turn out to be better looking than Vince?” 

I couldn’t contain my amusement. “Yeah, but don’t tell him that. He’ll always think he’s better than you, anyway.” 

“Do I ever get fat?” he asked. I can’t believe what my priorities were back then. 

“You put on some sobriety weight, but that’s it.” 

“Woah woah woah, hold on. I go sober in the future?” 

“Oh yeah. You go all the way with it. The only other time you do drugs after going sober is when you get surgery and you have to take painkillers. But you take ‘em how you’re supposed to because Courtney holds onto them.” 

“Courtney?” 

“Oh, sorry. My wife. Your wife.” 

“I can’t imagine being sober,” he said to me. I smiled sadly. “Is Tommy sober too?” 

“He tries to for a little while,” I explained. “But it doesn’t last that long. I mean, you know Tommy.” 

He laughed. “Tommy likes to party.” His tone then turned a bit serious. “So like… Tommy winds up okay and everything too, right?” 

“He does,” I said. “He’ll deal with his difficulties just like you will, but it turns out okay in the end. He’s got a cool wife now. She’s just as weird as him, so they’re a good match.” 

He nodded, absorbing as much of it as he could. “And Mick?”

“Mick’s still kickin’,” I told him with a chuckle. “Obviously his condition gets worse. But he takes it all in stride. He’s one tough son of a bitch.” I decided not to tell him that in the future he’ll be getting Mick’s face tattooed on him. That might’ve been a little much to throw on the kid. “Oh and hey, can you make sure to pay attention to Vince after the car crash? Because he’s gonna need you even though he won’t admit it. You need to be there for him. It’ll save you a lot of heartache.” 

“Car crash? Vince gets hurt?” He looked scared. 

“It’s a long story,” I sighed. “But just remember, be there for him. I wasn’t, and I still feel guilty to this day.” 

“Okay, I will,” he said, confused. 

“It would also be great to just not share needles with Tommy. Ever. I’d love to avoid hepatitis if possible.” He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “Tommy will always be your best friend. He’s gonna be there for you when no one else is, and you’re gonna be by his side for every mistake he makes. Please don’t ever forget to remind him how much he means to you. He deserves to hear that every once in a while.” 

“I promise,” he said, a strange look in his eyes. I know the look well. 

“I have to go,” I said for some reason. It was like I felt reality pulling me back. I stood up and ruffled his hair. “The future is awesome, Nikki. Hang in there.” I turned around to walk away, but he yelled out to me. 

“Wait!” I looked at him. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I’m… I’m glad I turn out like you.” 

That’s when I woke up. When I came to, I felt… accomplished. As if I had completed an important mission. It was really the strangest thing. Courtney told me I was mumbling a lot in my sleep. She asked if I had had a nightmare, and I told her no, it was actually a good dream. She asked me what it was about, and I just shrugged and said, “Dumb Nikki stuff. The usual.”


End file.
